The Survival Game
by mccalla867
Summary: The country of Panem has been in a state of peace for over 30 years. All is well. But tensions are rising, and Panem is not alone. The four countries of the world try to maintain peace in the only way they know how: a fun show of unity. The Survival Game.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games. No copyright infringement is intended.

**The Survival Game**

**PART I**

**_The Contestants_**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

I know that my mother loves me. I just wish I understood why she won't act like she does.

For as long as I can remember, mother favors Rye. I don't believe he has ever quite realized it, being as oblivious as he is.

He goes around singing, silencing all of the birds in the woods with his lovely voice. Maybe if I train my voice to sound like his, mother will love me more. But I try, and fail.

I've taught myself to hunt in the woods, using arrows like I know my mother does. I don't think that she notices when a sheath of arrows and her old bow goes missing. I'm pretty handy with a knife, since I've had years of practice skinning my game, among other things. I know it's not necessary, but I prefer my own meat to the fancy things back home.

As the oldest child of the Mockingjay, I've heard many stories of the rebellion and war thirty or so years ago. How my mother was a symbol of hope for the rebels, and how she changed the direction of our country for years to come. Often, people drop by our house just to see her, still in awe of her. Sometimes they will bring news. I've developed a nasty habit of eavesdropping on these conversations.

There's a visitor today. I don't know who it is, but mother has taken them to the office. I creep down the stairs and listen outside of the door.

They are discussing worldwide unrest, and how they could possibly stop it.

By the tone of her voice, my mother is not surprised at the suggestion for settling the uprisings. A new game. The Survival Game. Seven weeks in an arena, thirty two people from around the world. My mother says it sounds like the hunger games. The visitor, who's voice I recognize as President Taryn, disagrees.

"It's very different, Katniss. The point of the Survival Games is survival, and helping each other out. We believe that through these games, unity will be established. They will have a common goal to win. It's not the governments that hate each other. It's the people."

It is probably naive of me to have thought that Panem was alone in the world. That after the war that had wiped out most of the world's population around two centuries ago, only Panem could rise from the ashes. But others have survived as well. There are four countries, including Panem, with inhabitants. Gondwana, almost directly south of Panem. Kalahari, east of Gondwana. And Rodinia, a very advanced nation north of Kalahari and east of Panem. And it seems that nobody is happy.

I don't really need to hear more, so I trudge quietly to my bedroom. I wish I could run out of my house and confide in my closest friend. But I don't have one. I was always quiet in school, preferring to keep to myself rather than converse with the other children. I worked alone, but there was one person I was close to.

I slip into Rye's room and let the door snap shut behind me. Rye is bent over his desk, working on homework. Being the perfect child as only he knows how. But at the sound of the door, he looks over at me. His grey eyes are wise beyond his years, and he searches my face to place my emotion.

"What is it, Astrid?" I breath deeply, trying to get the newly developed jitters out of my system. My fingers twitch against my thigh. I don't know why I'm so distressed.

"Panem isn't the only country with humans," I say quickly, assessing his reaction. There is none.

"I know," Rye replies. I raise a brow, confused. Never in our lives had we been told of the existence of nations besides our own.

"How?" I ask, moving to sit on his bed.

"I've heard mother talk about it. Sometimes she told me stories of the other countries, but they were vague because she didn't know much." I frown. I never heard a single story about anything other than my parent's youth.

"They're creating a new game." This alarms Rye, as he stands abruptly. "The Survival Game. It's supposed to show unity among the nations. Thirty two contestants from around the world... so if they're equal from each country, that's eight people." Rye paces as I explain what I know. Then he stops. He is more calm now. He turns those knowledgable grey eyes on me.

"Astrid, do you know how many people are in Panem?" I shake my head in dissent. "A lot. What are the chances that you and I will be picked?" Slim to none, I think, and I too start to feel better.

"But what about the people who are picked?" I hedge.

"The aim of the game is not to kill, but to survive." I don't think that will turn out so well, but I remain silent. "You worry too much. I'm sure we'll hear about it officially soon." With that, Rye returns to his desk to continue working, effectively dismissing me.

**.SG.**

It's about a week later when Mayor Keating announces that there will be a mandatory television event this evening at 5. Rye and I exchange a knowing glance. We had somehow remained silent about the whole affair during the week, and now we will certainly know for sure that the Survival Game will occur.

The seal of the Capitol comes onto the television, followed by the announcer, a woman named Cressida whom my mother knew. She is smiling, though a hint of worry is in her eyes.

"Good evening, Panem. My name is Cressida, and I'm here to give you an important update.

"Our country of Panem is not alone in this world, as some of you may think. In fact, there are a total of four countries: Kalahari in the southeast, Gondwana in the southwest, Rodinia in the northeast, and our own Panem in the northwest. Mostly, we steer clear of each other. But lately, citizens of each country have been... unhappy, to say the least." There's a cut here, and a clip of very dark skinned people are shown calling for the annihilation of Rodinia, Panem and Gondwana. I automatically categorize them as the Kalaharians.

"The leaders of the four countries have met and agree that immediate action must be taken. Which leads us to our next announcement." Cressida plasters on a gigantic fake smile. "The first ever Survival Game! A worldwide televised event!

"All men and women between the ages of 16 and 22 that are deemed fit of body and mind will be selected at random to participate. Eight members of each nation will be selected, four female, four male. The aim of the game is to survive the conditions of the arena. There will be eight teams of four, consisting of a member of each country. Once a week, there will be a challenge, and the winning team is granted a prize. After the challenge is Tribunal, where members of the game vote which team they think is weakest. That, in combination with a ruling by four judges, removes one team each week. The final two teams will have a special challenge, then the winner will be determined by the judges.

"The contestants will be selected in two days time. Thank you, Panem, and may the odds forever be in your favor." With a little wave, the seal of the Capitol returns, then the screens go blank. For a moment, there is complete silence.

And then the talk breaks out. I hear snippets of conversation, but the general feeling is the same.

It's the Hunger Games all over again.

**.SG.**

Anxiety runs high for the next two days. Some people are contemplating running away, and a few families do. Some people from the Seam are gone by morning, leaving the mines short handed. While life is generally better than what mother and father lived through at my age, the Seam is still the site of rather small, run down houses. The town is still full of wealthier merchants, like the bakers and the shoe makers. The whispers are the same in both neighborhoods; nervous and curious. Who will be the unlucky 8 selected for the games?

The world will find out at 5 tonight.

I realize that I want to be selected for the Survival Game. At first, the reason eludes me. And suddenly, while I'm waiting on line for a loaf of bread, it comes to me.

I want to impress the Mockingjay. I want her to be proud of me, as a winner. I could outlive and outlast all the others. It's in my blood.

The jitters return. An almost maniacal smile creeps onto my lips as I purchase the bread. I rush home, my long dark hair whipping in the wind behind me. I hand the bread to my father, who looks at me, worried. We return to the square, and the whole District turns to the televisions which are now showing the Capitol seal. And then, Cressida is there.

"Hello again, Panem, this is Cressida here with the results of the contestant drawings for Panem. Let's get right down to business, shall we?" Someone hands her a list, presumably with 8 names on it.

"From District 7, Lily Kinnel. From District 11, Coty Pendergrass. From District 4, Finn Aquea. From District 7, Alexander Mason. From District 3, Dexter Electrode. From District 1, Emmeline Marvel. From District 10, Kylie Pepsin. And finally, from District 12, Astrid Everdeen.

"Thank you all for tuning in tonight. Those selected, please report to the Justice Building for further instructions." The Capitol seal returns. Again, the square is silent.

All eyes are on me.

I'm scared now. But I don't show it. I wanted to do this. And I will.

**.SG.**

I shuffle into the Justice Building maybe five minutes after I have been made a contestant on The Survival Game. A woman with violently pink hair waits for me there. Her eyes search my face.

"Katniss's daughter if I've ever seen her," she says simply. She holds out her hand. "Effie Trinket. I'm here to, in essence, babysit you until your entry into the arena. I did the same with your mother and father in their Hunger Games." A smile breaks out across her face. I follow her through the building into an office with a large desk and some comfortable chairs. Effie seats herself behind the desk, and I sit across from her.

"So we're just going to conduct a preliminary interview, so we know what you're like. Your name?"

Feeling slightly confused, I answer "Astrid Everdeen."

"Your age?"

"Seventeen."

"What do you feel is your greatest strength?" And so on. Some of the questions caught me off guard, such as "Do you have a boyfriend?" (to which I responded no, of course).

I suppose I was in there for about twenty minutes when Effie decided that there had been enough questioning.

"Thanks, Astrid. One last question. Do you know why your last name is Everdeen, not Mellark?" I'm stumped on that one. Maybe it's because my mother was the Mockingjay, and her name was symbolic. Or maybe because it sounded better. I shrug, showing that I honestly have no idea. "Alright. I should probably tell you more about the game. You know the basic premise from watching the program a few nights ago, correct?" I nod. "Good.

"There is a place, rather far from here, called Pilbara. It is a large island, and has been claimed by Rodinia. However, they have offered to hold the game on this island. There will still be an arena, created by Gamemakers, that no one will know of before the start of the game. You will be flown to Pilbara via hovercraft tomorrow at noon. The families of the contestants are invited to come on the trip as well, and will stay in a location near the arena. However, you will not have any contact with your family during the game.

"Like the Hunger Games, you will have sponsors and a mentor. A man named Gale Hawthorne will be your mentor." The name rings a bell but I can't quite place it. "Sponsors will send things, perhaps food or drink if you are having difficulty, and I decide when to send these items to you in the game. You will be filmed, but you never know when you're actually being shown on the screen. You may bring one item with you into the arena. You will be provided clothes fit for the arena, and a backpack. Do you have any questions?" I try to digest the information as fast as I can, and I am silent. "Good luck. Please try to be here by 11:30 tomorrow morning with your one item. See you then." I numbly stand, and make my way out of the Justice Building.

As I walk home, I speak words of assurance under my breath.

"Alright, Astrid, you wanted this. You can prove that you are strong, that you can work with your team to be the best. This is different from the legendary Hunger Games. You will survive. It's the aim of the game. You will help stop the unrest throughout the world. You will be great." By the time I walk in the door, I feel marginally better.

But what really turns my mood up is my father, waiting for me in the front hall. He gathers me in his arms, then leads me to the kitchen.

We bake a loaf of bread, the kind with the lovely cheese on top.

**.SG.**

Mother and father fight that night. Because of the game. Because of me.

I find myself on the staircase, listening in as usual. I'm never caught.

"Peeta, this is exactly why I didn't want children. I had a bad feeling about this happening. And they've practically brought back the games, and Astrid is part of them!"

"Katniss," says my father. I can't see them, but I know he is putting a consoling hand on her shoulder. "How could we have known? These children have been in our lives for years, and we've loved them. Do you really regret this?" Mother remains silent.

"I don't want her to get hurt," she says finally.

"It's the Survival Games. Not the Hunger Games. I understand where you're coming from. But Astrid is strong. She's just like you." More silence.

"I know," mother says finally. "Which is why I'm so worried. I did everything I possibly could to survive. I chose alliances that weren't necessarily blatant choices, but in the end, they were the most useful. If Astrid is as much like me as we think, she's going to want to win. She will do anything to protect her team, as they will be vital in her survival. But she won't be able to choose. Who knows how that will work out for her."

"And because of this, you're here now with two beautiful children and a husband who adores you," father replies. Another pause, and then mother speaks again.

"The Hunger Games are back. Real or not real?"

"Not real. This is different... I hope."

"I hope so too."

There is nothing more to hear, so I return to my room. I lay awake that night, my head full of questions. Would I die in the arena? Would the Gamemakers allow it? Will I make an ally from a different country? Could I win? Would everything be 'okay?' With all the questions unanswered, I finally drift off into a fitful sleep.

My dreams are filled with mysterious woods and loaves of cheesy bread.

* * *

><p><strong>Panem= North America<strong>

**Rodinia= Eurasia**

**Kalahari= Africa**

**Gondwana= South America**

**Pilbara= Australia**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games. No copyright infringement is intended.

Note: Considering time zones, Astrid arrives in "Pilbara" at some point in the middle of the morning.

**The Survival Game**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Rye wakes me the following morning promptly at 9. I spend a long time in the shower, the warm water a privilege I always take advantage of. When I walk downstairs, the smell of freshly baked muffins assaults me, and my pace automatically quickens.

My father grins at me as I hurry into the room, led by my nose. Mother laughs when I don't hesitate to shove half of a muffin in my mouth before even speaking.

"Figured you'd want a good breakfast today," says father. I nod, finishing off the muffin. "Oh and just so you know, a prep team will be here in about five minutes so you look presentable. Sent by the Capitol, of course." I scrunch my nose unhappily. Like my mother, I never really liked getting dressed up, and generally chose to wear a pair of shorts or pants and a shirt. Simple, comfortable and versatile. However, there have been times where I have dealt with the prep team before. In fact, I can clearly remember my first encounter with them. I had been twelve years old (before then, I was passable as an adorable child).

_We had been invited to a fancy dinner at the Capitol with the president. As much as mother abhorred events, father convinced her to attend this one. A complimentary prep team had been provided, and there were extra people for me._

_They painstakingly plucked every unwanted hair from my body, painted my face with an array of light makeup, and dressed me in a gauzy dress with nice shoes. I looked like a doll._

_I hated it._

I didn't think this time would be much different. I was just a little off.

The prep team arrived maybe five minutes after I finished breakfast. Like my prior encounters with the prep team, they wax me clean of body hair. Then Khalen, the woman I consider to be the mastermind, looks me up and down. I feel self conscious as her black eyes analyze my naked body. She snaps once, and Tania, Lola and Sheik gallop forward with heaps of garment bags.

"The outfit selected for me to wear for today is essential," says Khalen brusquely. "The rest of the world will see you for the first time while you are wearing this. You want to show them you're not afraid."

Well, I can't be afraid while wearing this. It's meant to flaunt my body.

What Khalen wants me to wear is a black lace dress. It has no sleeves, a boat neck, and is tight on the torso but flares out at my hips. The bodice is see through, except for the lace. I realize I'm to wear nothing under it. Luckily, the lace covers the essential bits, but doesn't leave much to the imagination. At least the skirt has a black panel behind it.

They try to force me into a pair of sky high heels, but I simply refuse. Khalen doesn't fight my opinion, and instead gives me a pair of red sandals with golden buckles. A gold ring with a red enamel stone in the center is forced onto my right finger, and my outfit is deemed complete. If only mother would approve.

Tania covers my face with powder, then begins to apply gold accents to my eyes. Lola is braiding one side of my head, while Sheik is working on the other side. The two braids come together in a ponytail at the nape of my neck.

Khalen dabs bright red lipstick onto my lips, and my transformation is complete. I don't look like myself, I think. But I don't look too bad.

It's almost eleven by the time I walk down the stairs to my family. My parents frown immediately, and Rye isn't even paying attention. We leave immediately so that we can get to the Justice Building on time. I can hear my mother muttering to my father, presumably about how I greatly resemble a trollop.

Will that make me weak? Maybe the people of other countries are just meant to oogle my body, not to feel threatened by me. I feel put out as we enter the Justice Building.

I've tuned out everything Effie says. It's not quite as important as figuring out if they mean for me to get eliminated in the first round, or if my body is supposed to provoke support. Truthfully, I hope it's the latter, as disgusting as it may be. I want to win, and my inability to turn down a challenge will surely help me in completing my goal.

The ride in the hovercraft is long, but comfortable. I'm still mostly lost in my thoughts, but Effie is saying something about Pilbara. Eventually, I doze off.

I dream of the desert this time, with Rye next to me. He is yelling, and I'm not sure if his words are directed at me. There's somebody across the way, but I can't see them. I can't hear what Rye's saying. I'm lost.

"Wake up, Astrid. We're about to land and we have to get you camera ready!" Khalen's voice rouses me from my strange dream, and I yawn. Khalen shoves a mint into my hand, demanding I use it before anyone else is subjected to my dragon breath. I chuckle, and pop the mint into my mouth. It doesn't take long for the team to fix my appearance, and before I know it, I'm having a pair of overlarge sunglasses shoved onto my nose, and I'm disembarking the plane.

I'm immediately blinded by the flashing of cameras. I stumble slightly on the first step, then quickly make my way down, desperate to get away from all the people. Effie catches up to me and she puts a restraining hand on my shoulder.

"Wave," she demands through her teeth, and I oblige.

**.SG.**

I'm in a building. It's rather dark. The past few hours is hazy, but all I know is that I'm sitting on a chair, in a dark building. There are people around me, people I don't know. Nobody seems to notice my return to conscious thought.

There are thirty two people in here including myself. We must be the contestants. Four of these people will be my teammates. Most are silent, staring at their hands, the ceiling, the floor or each other. But two are talking quietly. A boy an a girl, and they look around my age. She has blonde hair, and she looks like a stunner, but that's as much as I can tell. Well, other than the fact that she wants this boy.

I'm not that good at reading people, but the way she's patting at her hair, giggling excessively, and blinking rapidly is a dead giveaway.

He seems oblivious and disinterested. Probably trying to discuss something important while she doesn't pay attention. He looks at me, and our eyes meet for a moment. Then I look away, searching the faces of the rest of the crowd.

There's another person who meets my eye, a girl. She's small, so much smaller than the rest of us. She's young, and she looks vulnerable. I want to comfort her, but her dark skin wards me away.

Time passes. My gaze switches between my hands and the ceiling, always avoiding the faces. Then, four people come in, one of which is President Taryn. The rest must be the leaders of the other countries. My theory is proven by the way everyone stands up to respect those who just entered the room.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman," says the dark skinned man. His voice is deep and has a calming effect on me. Maybe that's why they elected him speaker. "I am Edi Mombasa, the Prime Minister of Kalahari. Welcome to Pilbara, and the first ever Survival Games.

"We all know this may seem rather sudden, but conditions in our countries are getting worse. We needed to take immediate action. The actual Survival Game will start in two days time, at noon. Tomorrow, you will spend the day drilling. That is to say, you will get used to the weapons that may be provided in the arena, you will be able to test your strengths, and you will be able to meet your fellows. These games are about unity. We can show the world that the human race can get along. For the time leading up to the Game, you will be staying in a room with your families, provided by may have the rest of today for yourselves to spend with your family. Dismissed." With that, the leaders departed, leaving behind a silent room.

"What on Earth?" I realize now how glad I am that English is the universal language. Otherwise, teamwork would be very difficult. A boy the same age as me has spoken, and looks very confused. Nobody answers him. I'm the first to stand, and I leave the room.

I'm feeling a bit exploratory when I hear footsteps pounding behind me.

"Hey, you dropped something!" I turn around, confused. Yes, he is talking to me. It's the same boy as before, except he's lost the girl. I search my mind for what I could have dropped, but come up blank. I didn't bring anything into the room, and my sunglasses were on my head. The boy is smirking at me, glad to have attained my attention.

"I lied. Nice dress." His eyes sweep my body appreciatively. I cross my arms over my partially exposed chest, feeling indignant and embarrassed simultaneously.

"Nice attitude," I retort, then turn on my heel and stomp away.

"Hey, hey, hold up there Spunky." I don't stop. But he seems persistent. He jogs up to my side, and pulls on my shoulder. I scowl at him, but it's the first real look I get. His eyes are the color of moss. His skin is fair. His hair is a light shade of brown. He's tall. He's muscular. He's extremely good looking. His jaw is square.

And frankly, I don't really care.

"What? I want to get back to my family and spend time with them before I'm shipped off to Hunger Games 2.0. Sound goodie?"

"Spunk, I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm Percy, and I'll hopefully be your teammate." Percy gives me a winning smile.

"Alright, thanks Skippy. Why don't you run along back to your friend back there. I'm sure she's lost without you." I walk away from him without looking back.

And since I don't look back, I don't notice the mischievous glint in his eye, or the devious half smirk on his face.

**.SG.**

"Where have you been? They didn't tell us anything," says a worried Rye as soon as I open the door to our room. There are two queen sized beds, a large television, two bedside tables and a desk.

"It's nothing." I peer at my parents who are talking over by the window. "They just told us some stuff, our schedule. I have the entire day here."

"We figured you would," says my mother, who has drifted closer. "So we made plans to do absolutely nothing except stay around the pool area. I hear there's even a water park complete with slides and a lazy river and four hot tubs." I'm sold. My mother taught me to swim at a lake in the middle of the woods. I picked up the skill quickly, and fell in love with it. The park was just an added bonus.

Rye and I spent most of our time in either swimming in the pool or shooting down the water slides. It was pure bliss. Until I completely smashed into a wall of a person. It's not like I could avoid them, what with them being at the mouth of the slide and my velocity of about a hundred or so miles an hour...

"Sorry," I lie automatically, looking at the girl who I smashed into. It was the one from before, Stunner. Her face contorts into an ugly snarl as she figures out who I was.

I swim away, and face no further problems that afternoon.

**.SG.**

My family sits at a table overlooking the beach at some fancy restaurant. I watch the waves roll in as the rest of them chat amicably. My plate rests in front of me, generally untouched. I am nervous about training tomorrow. Alright, so I can shoot arrows. What if that doesn't help me whatsoever in the arena? What kind of challenges would there be? If they were based in physical strength, I could definitely not do them. I had inherited my mother's rather thin frame, and the same went for Rye. But if they involved mental stimulation, I could do reasonably well. The problem with the Game was that I didn't know what to expect.

"Astrid, please eat your food," my mother says to me with a sigh. I know she understands what I'm going through, even if the Game is allegedly not as traumatizing as the Hunger Games. We both know that the tension between countries is high, even if we haven't seen it first hand. We also know that problems will arise between people, and especially between people on opposing teams.

I know my father understands as well, but he remains silent. We have this sort of connection, where he knows what I need without me saying so. I just want to mull. In silence.

"I'm not hungry," I mumble.

"Eat it anyway," my mother returns. I keep looking at the ocean, but I can't help but smile. I definitely get my stubbornness from her. "I'm serious, Astrid. Or else I'll come to your training tomorrow and show up your archery skills." She's smirking at me, and I turn to mock glare at her.

"You know I'm just as good, if not better than you," I boast.

"Not so sure about that."

"I am."

"Okay. To settle it, let's see who can eat the fastest." The game is petty, but I finish first. I stick my tongue out at my mother, and she returns the lovely gesture.

After we pay, Mother, Father and Rye retire to our room. I elect to stay out a little longer, wanting to get a feel for the Pilbarian atmosphere, or so I said. My feet lead me down some steps to the beach. I walk to the water, letting it wash over my feet. I relish in the sound of the waves crashing, in the solitude that surrounds me.

Unfortunately for me, the solitude is broken.

"Hey there, Spunky!" The sound of his run is masked by the moonlit sand. He comes to a stop next to me. I frown at the ocean.

"Hello." I say curtly, turning my body away from his. While I've changed from my revealing dress from before, the new silk dress is no less fashionable, but much more complicated. It's blue and grey and white, and drapey and hard to describe. Unfortunately, the prep team packed my bag for me. I feel his hand on my shoulder, and glare pointedly at him, then his hand. It doesn't move. I cross my arms and walk closer to the ocean, trying to escape. Of course, he follows me, but this time, he keeps his hands to himself.

"Nervous about tomorrow?" he says, as if I haven't been an ice queen to him.

"Somewhat," I say. "More about the Game in general. Who knows what will happen." I don't know what possesses me to keep this conversation going. Maybe it's the fact that he's not making perverse comments.

"Well, hopefully no one will die." I turn around and stare at him, uncrossing my arms. "What?"

"Did you really just say that?" I ask incredulously, maintaining eye contact for the first time.

"Er, yes, I believe I did."

"That's heartless."

"I don't want people to die!" he responds incredulously.

"Skippy, they're not going to let anyone die," I reply consolingly, trying to placate myself more than him. I lock my fingers behind my back and return to gazing at the ocean, in which I am almost knee deep. I hear Skippy sigh from beside me.

"First off, can you not call me Skippy? My name is Percy."

"Alright _Percy_," I say, emphasizing his name.

"And second, you're so uptight, Spunky. Which reminds me, I don't know your real name."

"Everdeen. Astrid Everdeen. And why would you call me uptight?" I say, feeling slightly put down.

"Well, for starters, you won't loosen up. You're dumb Game thing they're roping us into, it's supposed to be about international cooperation or some bull like that. You act like a frigid princess, probably because you're an Everdeen- don't think we haven't heard of your mom in foreign countries. I've been nothing but nice-" I cut him off with a glare, since I don't consider comments on my body exactly nice coming from a complete stranger "- okay amicable at best, and you hardly give me the time of day. Prove to me that you know how to have fun, and there's more to you than just that frozen exterior."

It comes to me. It's impulsive and possibly even flirtatious, but my common sense is far behind my need to complete the challenge posed. My dress slides off my body at the command of my hands, my eyes narrowed at my judge. It's under the water, off my feet and completely vulnerable in my hands after a moment. It's tossed in his general direction the next, hiding the disbelief on his face. Feeling light at the loss of fabric, I dunk my head under the water, then swim away. I unhook my bra, and lob it behind me. My panties are off next, thrown along with the rest of my clothes until the water hugs my skin completely.

I remain underwater from the neck down when I finally turn to face Percy. "Hot enough for you?" I ask innocently. Even from my distance, I can see the craving in his eyes, and I can almost feel his yearning to be close to me. But for some reason, something is holding him back. Feeling detached from his indecision, I take languid strokes in the water, swimming parallel to the beach.

And suddenly, I've won. I hear Percy wading quickly through the water, desperate to be near me. A smirk forms on my face as I slow my progress. He grabs my arm, and pulls me so that we're face to face, my body flush against his. He's breathing is quick and shallow, and his hungry eyes roam my face.

"Comme le mer," he says, and his voice is hushed, almost reverent. _Like the ocean_. He must be talking about my eyes, inherited from father dearest. He bends his neck so his face is closer to me. I can't move. I feel slightly like an entrapped animal, only I don't want to escape. The smirk slides off my face without my permission. My thoughts are muddled, but I wonder vaguely how we got to this very point.

Percy is very, very close.


End file.
